


Crossing the Line

by dk323



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Flashbacks, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:52:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6073027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dk323/pseuds/dk323
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After James’s death, Henry recalls James’s story of the fountain pen. The story was told as a sign of good faith after Henry had revealed his closely kept secret to him. If only he had known, if he had predicted James’s life being cruelly taken away from him; Henry was sure he would have done things differently. But for now, Henry can only remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Pen and Journal

**Author's Note:**

> This is for a Tumblr fic prompt request made anonymously. It was for #39 (but there were two lists, so I wasn't sure which one...used both prompts) for Henry and James.
> 
> Primarily this is for the prompt of "secret admirer."
> 
> The other prompt was this line (edited to fit better with the time period): "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"
> 
> This story is experimental as it deals with James Carter's back story. Also Henry reveals his immortality to James...in probably not the best way.  
> ***The homophobia is mostly the aftermath of a fight (nothing graphic) in James's past, not involving Henry.
> 
> (Decided to post what I have now as the draft will expire soon on AO3. And to do Henry's reveal right, I need some more time to be satisfied with it. I'm sorry about putting this up unfinished, but it'll get done. Just having some of the story posted should spur me to complete this. Been a few months since I got this prompt too (feels guilty for taking this long). These two chapters include the prompts from the list.)

**1906**

Henry sat on a cemetery bench with a direct view of James’s grave. He had been at the funeral, paid his respects, and now he was content to sit a short distance away. 

Henry wasn’t sure how well he could maintain his composure if he went before his dear friend’s grave once again.

He shook his head, trying to think of something that would bring him hope. Too much sadness the last few days, the last couple of weeks really as he tended to an ailing James.

In James's final days, Henry had reminisced with him about the past. He smiled, remembering James’s chuckle as he listened to Henry’s anecdotes. He’d been fascinated by how different Henry’s life had been considering his formative years were in the 18th century.

Henry had been glad to see James happy even as the illness ravaged his lungs. He had tried his best to keep James from growing melancholy. A difficult task, but he had made a valiant effort.

Then he recalled a happier time before James fell ill, only a few years ago. 

How James had regaled him with his own story: The Mystery of the Fountain Pen.

Henry smiled to himself as he remembered.

As his mind began its journey into the past, Henry was almost certain he heard someone say his name. 

Someone who sounded remarkably like James. 

But he shook himself. His mind was playing tricks on him. It had simply been the wind whistling in the trees.

He closed his eyes, seeing James, alive and well, before him, telling him about his unhelpful talk with his older brother at the pub –

**1903**

“Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

“I think I’ve grown wiser over the last 15 years, Pete.”

“When I see proof of that, I will agree with you.”

“You bastard.” James told his older brother, his words coming without heat. “So you really don’t think it was Henry who gave me the fountain pen?”

“To me, Henry Morgan doesn’t seem the type to do that. It has to be one of the nurses. A few of them told him you do a thorough job of flirting with them.”

“They didn’t say that.”

“Well not those exact words. But that’s the impression I got. And even this Henry Morgan of yours assured me that you do.”

“‘Assured me’? I didn’t ask you to start an inquisition.”

James gave his brother an admonishing look, and then peered into his near empty glass. That had to be rectified. He finished it off.

“Scotch on the rocks please,” James said to the bartender.

“And I don’t see any of the nurses giving me a fountain pen.” He pointed out to his brother.

“Life is full of surprises. Maybe if you could look past the pages of medical texts, you can foresee them before they hit you square on the nose.”

He nodded at the barman in appreciation as he set his full glass before him.

“Thank God you’re leaving tomorrow,” James told his brother as he drained his drink.

His brother laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. He ordered another drink for himself as James sighed, tapping his fingers against the clear glass.

Whenever Pete was in town, he could never manage to get as drunk as he’d hoped to. He had to quit, return home in defeat.

~ * ~

The next day at work, James decided to ask Henry straight out about the fountain pen that was delivered to his door. It wasn’t just that, but the pen was a Waterman, the gold standard of pens. And his birthday wasn’t any time soon.

As far as he knew none of the nurses had that kind of spare money to spend on a gift. Especially for someone they may have simply taken a liking to. 

Now, Henry, true, James had no proof that he had that sort of money either. He had seen his apartment, and it looked sparse with the bare minimum furniture. Not much of notable value that he’d seen.

But despite lack of physical evidence, if anyone would have a secret fortune it would have to be Henry Morgan. Was it too illogical to consider he could have some old money back in his native England? Easy to hide an inheritance when it’s in a different country.

“Henry, Good Morning,” he greeted him.

“Yes, Good Morning. How are you, James?” Henry asked in a polite tone as usual. 

Except this day, James didn’t miss the distracted air about Henry. Like he was anxious to go off and begin his rounds.

“Are you all right?” James asked him, concerned. 

Or could he be like this because he was hoping James wouldn’t question him about the pen?

“I am, James. Thank you for asking. How is your brother?”

“Pete left early this morning. It was nice to see him, but I can’t say I’m unhappy to see him go. He’s only a year older than me, yet he believes he is in the right on most things. But nothing I’m not used to. The visit went well enough.”

“Good. Good. Well I should get on with my day. I have a lot of patients to see.”

“Yes, I understand. I do as well. But I mean to ask you something, Henry.”

Henry turned back to face him.

“What is it?”

Just then, James overheard a patient come in complaining of a broken nose. His nose was bruised, and a little blood still dripped from the young man’s nostrils.

James remembered that night 15 years ago. He had been 17.

1888

_“I got him in the nose. Don’t think it’ll look the same again,” he told Pete, who had come to help just in time._

_“But you didn’t get out of this unscathed.”_

_James groaned, feeling the pain in his shoulder hit him especially hard at that moment. It felt dislocated. And one of his eyes was so swollen he could barely open it._

_“Was worth it.”_

_“No it wasn’t,” Pete shot back, glaring at him._

_James pushed him away when Pete put his hands on his injured shoulder.  
_

“Go away.” He said weakly. 

_“Your right shoulder is dislocated, isn’t it? I’m going to fix it. Either that, or I’m taking you to the doctor. And I’ll tell him what happened in detail.”_

_James frowned. “All right. Just do it.”_

_He stood still as Pete grabbed his shoulder and made note of where the ball and socket of the shoulder joint were._

_“Don’t worry. I have done this before.” He said, sounding all too confident as he prepared to make the repair._

_James gritted his teeth, impressed he didn’t yell out too loudly as his brother fixed his shoulder._

_“Thanks,” he muttered._

_He started walking in the direction of home, not checking to see if his older brother was following or not._

_“When you become a doctor, I’m sure you’ll be fixing a lot of shoulders.”_

_“So it’s not “if” anymore? Now you believe in my chosen profession?”_

_Pete shrugged. “I just needed time to come around to it. Being around sick people isn’t for me, but if you want to do it, then I’m not going to stop you.”_

_“Fine description of being a doctor.” James said dryly._

_Pete sighed, sounding weary as he spoke, “James, if you listen to one thing I say tonight, then please let it be this: Whatever you do, don’t cross the line with any man. No matter what. Next time, I may not be there, and well…”_

_James deflated, knowing what his brother meant. That if there was a next time, he could be left for dead._

_“I misjudged… sorry you had to see that.”_

_Pete dropped his arm across his shoulders. “I’m just glad you’re still here to apologize to me.”_

_James let him have the last word, though when he ruffled up his hair, he did shove him away in annoyance. He heard Pete’s footsteps behind him as he continued to walk home. He would never admit it out loud, but he was reassured he wasn’t alone._

_Especially after the night he had._

“James? James? You wanted to ask me something?” Henry’s voice brought him back to the present.

James flashed him a quick smile. “I think I forgot what that was. I’m sorry, Henry.”

“That’s all right. If you remember, let me know.”

James nodded.

James watched him walk away.

The fountain pen had to be a mistake. Delivered to him in error. That was it. He couldn’t venture into this again, and have it be like that night he’d rather erase from his memory.

He saw one of the desk clerks looking to toss a box of chocolates into the trash.

“Hey, Esther, I was hoping to eat that. It would be a crime to have them go to waste.” James told her.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Carter. This is from a former beau who won’t leave me be. I couldn’t look at the box any longer.”

“Well I’ll take it out of your hands. Is that all right?”

“Thank you, Dr. Carter. I appreciate it.”

He took the box from her. He had a chocolate from himself, and then offered it to other staff: clerks, nurses and other doctors. Some of the nurses, the younger ones especially, blushed as he chatted with them. That supported his older brother’s claim, but James didn’t mind. He was aware of what he was doing, and the box of chocolates gave him a welcome distraction as he did his rounds.

The mystery of the fountain pen would have to wait.

~ * ~

It was toward the end of his shift when the last person James wanted to see came.

He stared at the man – Charlie -- who, with his two friends, attacked him 15 years ago. His nose was crooked, never quite fully healing after James had struck him there.

“Hello James,” he said quietly, looking out of sorts. “My daughter’s here. She’s had a fever for days that won’t go away. I was hoping you could see her. You’re the only doctor here I know…”

“I can’t.” He said, turning away from him.

Charlie grabbed his forearm before James could escape his reach. “I’ll keep my distance.”

He gave Charlie a pointed look. If he wanted to keep his distance, he was doing a poor job of it.

“What – like you did at the university?” James shot back at him, lowering his voice to avoid drawing attention to the conversation.

Charlie flinched. “I shouldn’t have then. I—I’m sorry.”

James recalled that particular time. It was 1891, and he was an undergraduate studying medicine.

_He’d been walking down a corridor when he felt a hand cover his mouth. He was steered toward an alcove._

_James had been ready to throw a punch. Yet when he turned around, he saw it was Charlie._

_He was planning to push him away and leave, but Charlie trapped him against the wall. He took his face in his hands and kissed him full on the mouth. His body betrayed him and relaxed letting the kiss continue, letting Charlie tangle his fingers into his curls._

_But his brother’s words echoed in his head, “don’t cross the line with any man.”_

_That gave him the motivation to push Charlie away from him, pressing him up against the wall, his arm at his neck to keep him from making another move._

_“You have lost your senses,” James said._

_Charlie looked apologetic. “I’m getting married.”_

_James would laugh if he wasn’t so frustrated with him. “Then why are you here with me?”_

_He dropped his hand, allowing Charlie some space as he stepped away from him._

_“I don’t know.”_

_“I'm leaving, Charlie.”_

_“No, wait!” Charlie said, grabbing his hand. “I think I’m making a mistake.”_

_“And why you are telling me? You made your opinion of me clear that night 3 years ago.”_

_“Did you tell your brother?”_

_“I didn’t believe he would understand how someone could be so conflicted that he’d bring friends to help him attack an unarmed man. I made myself out to be a naïve fool, telling him I was wrong about your intentions. So thank you for that.” James said, his tone biting._

_He was darkly pleased to see Charlie visibly upset and regretful._

_Three years had passed by, and he felt that if Charlie was honestly sorry, he would’ve apologized long before now. At this moment, James was certain that Charlie was panicking as he was about to head into another stage of his life. He would marry, and there was no turning back from that. James wouldn’t let him to cling to a past that would never be repeated._

_“I’m sorry I put you in that position.”_

_Charlie reached out to him, trying to put his hand on his cheek._

_James blocked him, swiping his hand away._

_“It’s too late, Charlie. It’s too late.”_

_Charlie was silent._

_James spoke, knowing why Charlie felt he was making a mistake, but he wasn’t going to reassure him. Say that it was all right because it wasn’t._

_“If you think you can convince me to begin again what we had, you won’t, Charlie. And I won’t be your secret either while you live your charade. Your future wife doesn’t deserve that.”_

_“That’s not why I came to see you.”_

_James raised his hands, looking at him in disbelief. “You kissed me like you were on your way to your death. A rational man on the verge of marriage would be doing that with his bride-to-be, not a former--”_

_He stopped, shaking his head. He knew Charlie was aware of what he meant to say. But James didn’t want to lend weight to their past relationship by speaking of it out loud._

_“James…” He said, sounding at a loss for words as James’s name seemed to echo in the heavy silence._

_“I plan to be a doctor, Charlie. I have goals in my life that don’t involve you. So we should part ways.”_

_“But you’ll have the same problem as me when it comes to marriage. We are not so different.”_

_“No, you’re wrong. I’m open to both.”_

_“That’s not possible!”_

_“Goodbye, Charlie.”_

_James left him staring in bewilderment. He felt a hollow satisfaction within him, leaving Charlie in such a state, like he’d punched him to the gut. The sting of the past still lingered however he tried to forget it._

Coming back to the present, James shook his head. “Apologies from you have lost their meaning. My shift is nearly over.”

He turned around, not waiting for Charlie to respond.

“My daughter’s name is Anna. Anna Forrest. Just…if you can,” Charlie still persisted however weakly.

James continued walking away, not wanting to give Charlie any indication that he would do him a favor.

~ * ~

He found Henry treating a patient who happened to be a young girl of 5 or 6. When he saw the woman beside the bed, the mother presumably, James wanted to laugh at the twist of fate. James nodded at Henry in greeting.

Then he looked to the woman.

“Hello, Sarah.”

Charlie had married a mutual school friend of theirs. James had even taken her to a dance years ago. 

“James, it’s good to see you.”

She went to hug him, James returned the gesture.

After ending the embrace, James smiled at her. “How is Anna doing, Henry?”

“She’s improving. Her fever is going down. She just needs some rest.”

“Dr. Morgan speaks highly of you.” Sarah noted.

“Henry, I wish you wouldn’t spread such falsehoods about me,” James said to him in jest.

“I will endeavor not to do so the next time,” answered Henry in kind. 

He smiled at him, a small one of amusement, but a victory for James. Sometimes Henry could be so formal, that James wondered if he forgot to smile.

James clapped him on the shoulder. “I appreciate the thought. I can look after Anna, Henry. It’s almost time for you to leave, is it not?”

“If you insist. Thank you, James.”

“And dinner tomorrow night?” James reminded him.

“Of course. Always a pleasure.” Henry gave him a genuine smile and a nod.

Henry left.

Watching him leave, James reconsidered whether he should broach the subject of the fountain pen with Henry. Just to make sure he didn’t have anything to do with the unexpected gift.

“Are you and he--?” Sarah asked. Her voice brought him out of his own head and musings.

James looked carefully at her. The emotions on her face: sadness, regret, reluctant acceptance told him more than words can say.

“Henry is a very good friend of mine. That’s all.”

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well. I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn. The two of you seemed very content with each other.”

“I did speak to Charlie moments ago. Are you happy with him?”

Sarah nodded, but she didn’t look him in the eye. Instead she settled her gaze on her sleeping daughter.

“He told me.”

Those three words were like a weight striking the ground.

“I’m sorry, Sarah.”

James didn’t know what else to say.

She shrugged, swiftly changing the subject. “I am grateful my Anna is doing better. You will watch after her? I hope not to be a bother. You must have had a long day.”

James smiled at her in easy reassurance. “No, no trouble at all. This is my job.”

~ * ~

James went to check on Charlie. Sarah told him he was probably outside smoking. That’s how he handled stressful situations, escaped to light up a cigarette or two. All the same, James thought it best to see how he was. Anna was improving, her fever managing to stay down for at least an hour. James was hopeful that she’d be able to leave with her parents come morning.

He found him in a quiet area meant for patients during the day. He was sitting on a bench, staring blankly into the distance. A cigarette was in hand, which he put up to his mouth and blew out a puff of smoke, appearing more relaxed as he went through the motions.

“Charlie,” he said, announcing his presence.

“Want one?” He offered, removing a cigarette from his pack.

“No, that’s all right. I just wanted to see how you were. You should be with your daughter and your wife.”

“I suppose.” He shrugged.

James sat beside him. Charlie’s hands were trembling.

“Sarah told you, I’m sure?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t tell her about us. Although I think she may suspect. But I didn’t tell her how close we were. It doesn’t change the fact I trapped her. How can I be so awful?”

“Well maybe one day your daughter is old enough, you can show her the importance of acceptance.”

“If she doesn’t hate me by then.”

“She could surprise you.”

Charlie sighed, dropping his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it with his foot to kill off the last embers.

“I dug my own grave, and now I have to lie in it.”

“Please don’t lose hope, all right? There are worse things in the world.”

“Why are you telling me this? I thought you’d prefer I was dead.”

“No, never that. Just promise me. You wouldn’t want Anna to grow up without a father.”

There was a considerable wait before Charlie responded. James watched him light up another cigarette, looking more interested in smoking a fresh one than answering him. 

“I promise.” He finally said.

James put his hand over his, gripping it briefly. “Thank you.”

He managed to persuade him to return inside.

~ * ~

The sun was due to rise in about an hour, more or less, when James returned gratefully home. Weary too, more than anything.

But everything had gone well enough. Anna was better and Charlie and Sarah were able to take her back home. Hopefully the next time he saw Charlie he would be more at peace with himself. Although he was well aware in this world they lived in, that was not an easy task.

He found an unexpected little visitor outside his front door, curled up and fast asleep. He was clutching a rectangular shaped package in his hands.

“Poor boy got himself tired out,” said his older next door neighbor, Mrs. Kirke. 

She was always up very early, and was well-informed, or nosy to be blunt about it. 

“I’ll just take Teddy inside.”

“It’s been 3 years since he’s been causing you trouble, Doctor. Either you adopt him or tell him to stop taking advantage of your hospitality.”

“He’s no trouble at all. Good day, Mrs. Kirke.”

Sometimes she meant well, but the last thing James was going to do was tell an 11-year old boy to leave him alone. To go back to the orphanage he’d lived all his life. Especially after Teddy told him that the Matron preferred nursing her “special” bottle over taking care of them. But he couldn’t adopt him either, feeling that his long hours working as a doctor was no family for a boy. Teddy needed a mother and a father, a stable family. James was too dedicated to his work to give him that. Yet Teddy still came, and didn’t seem to mind that James was often barely home. Maybe he was a better alternative than the orphanage, which wasn’t too surprising. But he still believed Teddy deserved more than what he gave him. 

All the same, he accepted the peculiar arrangement for the last few years.

James knelt down beside Teddy and shook his shoulder a bit. “Teddy? Wake up.”

No good. The boy was in a deep sleep.

James sighed. He opened up his door first. Then he carefully lifted him up, one arm under his knees, the other beneath his shoulders. The package was still secure in Teddy’s grip.

He walked inside as steadily as he could, slowed by the added weight.

He laid Teddy down on the sofa, the usual spot the boy slept on when he came to visit. Which, lately, had been more frequent.

Teddy’s eyes fluttered open. He smiled. “You’re home!”

“Had a long day at work. If I knew you were waiting…”

“That’s all right. You have an important job. I knew you’d be home eventually. I wanted to open this package myself, but it was addressed to you.”

“After I eat, I’ll open it.” James promised him.

Truth be told, James felt his bed calling to him. He was exhausted. It had been a few hours since he’d eaten.

He made himself some vegetable soup with a slice of bread. He offered some to Teddy as well.

Afterwards, he opened the package while Teddy watched with interest.

James found it was a leather-bound journal with a lock. There was no key.

“You need to find the key.”

James nodded. “I can only hope that the sender will provide me with the right one.”

“There’s no return address.”

James went over to his writing desk, taking out the fountain pen, the first gift from this apparent secret admirer. Or Henry, but as to why he was being this mysterious, James was left without an answer.

“Perhaps I have a secret admirer.” James said out loud. 

His mind wandered, imagining Henry approach him, looking at James with intent. And James stood there, not knowing how to take Henry’s demeanor, the desire in his eyes as the distance closed between them. 

He forced himself to stop his imaginings and focus on the present. He looked to Teddy.

“You can stay here if you want to. I’ll be going into the hospital later, so I’m hoping to get a few hours’ rest.”

“All right. Thank you, Dr. Carter.”

“Of course.”

~ * ~

When James woke up, he found Teddy hovering over him.

“I think I found the key to the journal,” he told him, smiling a triumphant smile.

James rubbed his eyes, a yawn escaping him. “I’m sure you don’t want me to ask how you got it.”

Teddy looked nervous, biting his lip. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist trying to find the key. I don’t like unsolved mysteries.”

James sighed. “I could see if it fits in the journal’s lock. But if it doesn’t, I will go with you to personally return the key to its rightful owner. Understood?”

Teddy nodded eagerly.

James took the key and inserted it into the lock. The lock clicked open. He debated whether he should see what was inside. After all, the key was gained through less than honest means. 

But curiosity won out in the end, so he saw what, if anything, was written within the pages.

Only one page had writing on it. The rest of the journal was empty.

What he read didn’t make sense. 

The words on the page were: Go to the river. Bring clothes.

Teddy tried to peek and read what was on the page. James closed the journal though. 

“The message was meant for me. Remember?”

Teddy nodded. He lowered his head, looking chastised. 

“You’re not missing anything, Teddy. Don’t be so down about it.”

He squeezed his shoulder, giving him a quick smile to let him know it was all right.

~ * ~


	2. One mystery solved

“Are you all right, Henry?” James asked. “You seemed distracted during dinner.” 

Henry smiled at him, though the smile was half-hearted and didn’t reach his eyes. James had the impression that Henry was a million miles away. 

James agreed to return to Henry’s apartment afterwards. Henry’s too quiet, anxious demeanor had worried James. He decided what was best for Henry was to get him home, and perhaps being in familiar surroundings would relax Henry, ease whatever problem he was burdened with.

“I’ve never felt better, James,” Henry said as he searched for something in his cabinets in the kitchen.

Sighing, James approached him from behind and grabbed Henry’s hand, halting his movement of opening the cabinet.

“You’re speaking to a doctor, and a friend. I hope you trust me enough to tell me what’s bothering you.”

Henry turned around, facing him now. “I’m sorry, James. Some matters I cannot so easily speak about.”

“All right. I can accept that. But I only want to help you, in any way I can.”

Henry sighed. “Did you read the journal?”

James stared at him. If it was true, and he’d written those strange directives – what was Henry playing at?

“So it was you then? And the fountain pen?”

Henry nodded.

He was quick to give an apology. “I’m sorry about the key. I didn’t know Teddy would try to find it. He knows you’re my friend, so you had to be where he started. He had a lucky guess.”

Henry raised his hand. “No need to apologize. It was my fault that I didn’t give you the key sooner or reveal I was the sender.” He didn’t look willing to continue. 

“What is it? Please, I want to help you, Henry.”

“I appreciate that. But I need time to-”

He stopped abruptly, and then he took James’s face in his hands and pressed his lips to his.

James thought about pushing him away. This was too sudden. They were only friends, good friends, but still. And Henry clearly didn’t possess the most sound of mind now. James couldn’t allow Henry to change the subject through a kiss.

But he had to admit to himself that he did care for Henry, enough that he had hoped for something more between them than friendship. That vision earlier in the day of Henry looking at him with desire…

But his sense won out for a little while. However reluctantly, he broke off the kiss and moved away from Henry, giving them a few feet of space between them.

“There’s something you’re not telling me. And I won’t let you distract me. Even if this might be hard for you, please just talk to me. I’ll listen. I won’t judge.”

“James…this may be-”

He frowned at Henry, feeling irritated. “What – beyond my understanding? You don’t believe I could handle it.”

Henry gave him a sad look. “Tell me what the journal said.”

“ ‘Go to the river. Bring clothes.’ I wasn’t sure what that meant.”

“You will learn what it means soon. I promise, James. But please, let me have this with you. I know you want it too, I felt it.”

James looked down, peering at his hands. He didn’t know what he really wanted now. Henry’s secret revealed, the odd directive explained, or to be intimate with the friend he’d grown to love?

He looked Henry in the eye, feeling exposed under Henry’s discerning gaze.

“All right.” James accepted.

He realized that this would be the first time since Charlie that he would be with a man. One he was fond of, as he had once cared for Charlie what felt like another lifetime ago.

Well, James couldn’t deny it had been a long dry spell. And he couldn’t think of a better man than Henry to be with, to give his heart to and not live to regret it. As he had with Charlie.

This time, James initiated the kiss and Henry obliged him as he led him to his bedroom. He unbuttoned James’s shirt and steered him down toward the narrow bed.

His older brother’s words came unwanted into his head: “-don’t cross the line with any man.”

But Henry Morgan wasn’t just any man, James said back silently. 

Firmly pushing away his brother’s words; well-meaning though they may have been, right now James didn’t believe they applied. He had changed, for the better he hoped, in the years following the Charlie debacle. 

He had to trust in himself that he would make good decisions. And that included choosing the right people to take to bed. The past was the product of youthful immaturity, but here and now, he and Henry were grown men. James was certain that Henry would never hurt him.

James pulled Henry’s face toward him, kissing him, not allowing Henry to do all the work.

“I’m sorry,” Henry whispered. “So sorry.”

James just managed to catch the words. He wanted to question them, but Henry began to remove his pants and soon, James forgot what he had to ask about anyway.

~ * ~


	3. Revealing the Impossible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad to finish this story. And thanks to the Anon who gave me the great prompt. :-)

When James woke up, he thought it was too quiet. He turned to his side, to where Henry lay beside him.

He smiled at Henry. It was nice to awaken and see someone he had grown to love by his side.

Then his pleasantly content state abruptly changed. His mind shifted from the just awoken, half-aware feeling to the wide awake, something was not right one. Something James hadn’t expected. But he realized why he believed it was too quiet. Henry wasn’t breathing. He couldn’t see his chest rising and falling as it should have been. He was looking too pale as well, the color gone from his skin.

“Henry?” James said out loud, feeling confused. Then more alarmed, “Henry!”

He grabbed his friend’s shoulders, shaking them gently. Henry’s eyes didn’t open in response to the touch. His head fell back against the pillow due to the force of gravity than any voluntary movement. James checked Henry’s pulse at his wrist.

James felt his hands tremble, shock taking over him as he didn’t feel the beats he wanted so badly to feel against his fingers.

Then James watched in disbelief as Henry’s body disappeared all of a sudden. Even with his fingers still clutching Henry’s wrist, he vanished before his eyes.

What in the world had happened? Was he still asleep, having the oddest dream he’d ever had?

James pinched himself, and nothing had changed. He was still in bed, watching the empty space next to him where Henry had disappeared from.

A very dead Henry.

He rubbed his face. “God, grant me strength,” he said under his breath.

Climbing out of bed, he put on his clothes, on automatic. James noticed over by Henry’s bedside table that there was a bottle labeled morphine. He swore to himself.

He’d just persuaded Charlie the previous day not to hurt himself, not to end his life when he had a family to take care of.

And now, the last person he’d imagine, Henry of all people, had intentionally overdosed on morphine. Killed himself on purpose.

Had James done something wrong? Had he not been enough for Henry? Worse, had Henry decided after their night together that he couldn’t bear to be with a man that badly that he had taken drastic action?

“Damnit, Henry,” James said. 

Over everything else though, the fact Henry’s body was gone with no logical explanation was James’s most urgent concern.

He sat at the kitchen table, at a loss about what to do. Where could he find Henry’s body? And if Henry was dead, who should he tell? Henry never intimated any family or friends who would want to know about his demise.

James recalled Henry’s apology last night. Why had he said those words? Had he given a warning to James – that he was tormented enough that he was planning to end his life? Maybe spending time with him was Henry’s final wish before he would kill himself?

Unable to continue that line of thought – considering Henry wanting to die made his heart ache – James hunted down a bottle of alcohol in Henry’s apartment.

He poured himself a glass of Scotch, downing it so quickly that the alcohol hit him hard, stinging, as it went down his throat.

The harshness was welcome, distracting James from the unsolved mystery he wished he knew how to deal with.

Maybe that journal Henry gave him would be a good place to pen his thoughts. Organize them, make sense of them and settle on his next course of action.

Halfway into pouring another glass for himself, James remembered the words in the journal. About going to the river and bringing clothes.

The idea to follow those instructions seemed half-crazy, but what did he have to lose? Henry was gone, and he needed to do something.

And Henry had given him that journal after all. He’d admitted to it. So maybe there was some reason for those words Henry had written. 

James collected a change of clothes for Henry, and decided to add a towel or two into the bag. He was going to the river after all. That meant water, and the potential to get wet. It was a reasonable precaution.

James headed down to the river and he saw Henry. He was completely naked, wet, and hiding behind a bush.

Henry noticed his presence and looked nervous and a bit sheepish too.

He dropped the bag in front of Henry, who immediately opened it up. He appeared pleased to see the towels. 

“Thanks,” he said to James as he dried himself off.

He put his clothes on quickly, pointedly not looking James in the eye. James couldn’t stop staring at him. This was undoubtedly the strangest encounter he’d ever had. 

Would this count as a reunion?

“I saw you die. And then you disappeared.” James said in a low voice, so Henry could only hear. “What is this?” 

Henry answered, his voice a whisper. “I can’t die, James. Not permanently. I always awake in the water afterwards. I’m sorry. I am glad you came.”

“Are you human?” James asked, not sure if that was the right thing to ask. 

Was he offending Henry by asking? Then again, Henry had thrown him into the deep end without letting him know what to expect when he did reach the river.

Considering that, he deserved to ask any question he liked.

Henry looked up, finally meeting his eyes. He nodded. “As far as I know, I am. But perhaps we should discuss this further in a more private space?”

James couldn’t agree more. Without even looking, he could hear people only feet away going about their mornings. For something unbelievable like this, Henry couldn’t go into detail with random passersby as witnesses.

“All right. We can return to your place.”

“Thank you, James.”

As they walked back to Henry’s apartment, James asked, “So what was the purpose of the fountain pen and journal? That message could have fit on a simple piece of paper.”

Henry sighed. “I haven’t had much experience revealing my secret. With a good reaction at least. My first wife had me committed when I entrusted her with the truth.”

“Oh God, Henry. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was a long time ago. I wasn’t sure if I should even tell you, but I decided I couldn’t keep this hidden from you. Your friendship means a lot to me.”

“I believed you’d hurt yourself because you disliked my company,” James confessed to him, choosing his words carefully so as not to invite any unwanted looks from others. 

Strangers didn’t need to know that they had been intimate last night. In the time they lived in, relations between men was wisest to keep a secret, within the private confines of four walls. His experience years ago with Charlie had ingrained that reality into James, whether he liked it or not.

“No, James, it was never that. The previous evening was one of my most memorable evenings in a long while.” He assured James.

He turned to him, squeezing James’s shoulder. He nodded at Henry, showing he believed him.

James was grateful Henry was trusting him enough to impart his secret to him. That he couldn’t die as an average man would. It was a big risk to take. If he told the wrong person – well, he could be committed again or be experimented on by the government. Plenty of interested parties, James imagined, would want to see if his condition could be replicated. If it could be used in the medical field to save patients’ lives.

James shuddered to think that he might be one of those doctors administering this potential “miracle” cure to patients. Especially if it came at the cost of Henry’s suffering. 

But he knew now that could never happen. He was Henry’s friend and he would keep his secret. James could never live peacefully with himself after betraying a good man.

“I still don’t understand all that trouble sending me the pen and journal. And having me believe I had a secret admirer.”

“But I do admire you, James,” Henry said with a smile. “And I suppose, in case I had to leave suddenly, you’d have those items to remember me by. They’re very good quality.”

James could only guess Henry meant if an incident occurred where his condition was revealed unintentionally. And to avoid a disastrous fallout, Henry would have to leave, possibly go as far as leaving the country completely. Head back to England then? He didn’t want to dwell on the prospect of never seeing Henry again. Or having to travel a great distance just to see him instead of just walking a few blocks. That was an undesirable scenario James vowed he’d keep from happening. 

James raised his eyebrow, snorting in disbelief. “Do you honestly think inanimate objects will compare to your physical presence?”

Henry gave him a weak half-smile. “It was not the best strategy, I admit. I will have to establish a better one for next time.”

They had arrived at Henry’s apartment. James opened up the door with Henry’s key he had made sure to take with him. They entered the apartment, James shutting the door behind him. “I suppose there’s no good way to reveal your secret. It’s magical in a way. And popular belief has it that magic isn’t real.”

“I’m no wizard, James.”

James grinned at him. He wanted to laugh. He thought he’d lost Henry not long ago, and now relief swept through him leaving him giddy. “I would have to disagree, Dr. Morgan. Especially after last night.”

Henry widened his eyes at him, but he must have recognized James was teasing him. He let out a chuckle.

James laughed too. He embraced Henry. He had to feel how solid he was, that he wasn’t a ghost who would drift away with no physical body to keep him here in the land of the living.

Henry returned the pressure. “I’m here, James. Really and truly. I’m alive. I promise you. I’ve returned, and I couldn’t be happier to share my secret with you. You mean a lot to me.”

~ * ~

**1906**

Henry’s trip down memory lane ended as someone sat down next to him.

He looked over, and he saw that it was Teddy, the boy James had looked after since he was eight. But now Teddy was 14, and he would soon not be a boy any longer. He was tall and thin, like he wasn’t getting enough to eat. 

“Good afternoon, Dr. Morgan.” Teddy greeted him.

Henry had only seen the boy a few times. And for the most part, Teddy had seemed more at ease with talking to James while he shied away from speaking to Henry for very long.

James had told Henry that it must have been his British accent. It had made Teddy feel like he couldn’t talk openly with Henry because maybe he wouldn’t understand, being a foreigner and all. No matter if Henry had been in New York for years by that point.

But when James had fallen ill, and he couldn’t help Teddy as much as he’d done before, Henry had stepped in. Though he had been primarily intent on James’s care, Henry wasn’t one to tell an orphaned boy to leave them alone. Teddy had been just as upset about James’s failing health, and was willing to assist in any way Henry asked of him. 

During that time, they had grown closer in their shared worry over James and now, shared grief.

“How are you, Teddy? James’s passing will not be easy for either of us I believe.”

“I miss him,” he admitted, shrugging.

Henry put his arm around Teddy. “I do too. I do too.”

He let Teddy put his head on his shoulder, and the pair of them sat there. United in their sadness, but it was far better than grieving alone.

He took out the fountain pen he’d gifted James a few years ago. James had been right. An inanimate object paled in comparison to a physical presence. A living, breathing physical one.

Yet Henry smiled as he held the pen in his hand. He swore he felt James nearby. It was a small feeling, but it was enough to make him smile. That, perhaps, keeping this pen would be like keeping a piece of James with him always.

“We should head home,” he told Teddy.

He nodded, swiping at his face. He’d been crying, so quietly that Henry hadn’t realized. Henry kissed him on the top of the head. Teddy didn’t shrug away from the affection despite being on the verge of outgrowing it.

They left the bench. Henry made one last visit to James’s grave. He knelt down in front of it, one hand atop the stone.

“I love you,” Henry told James quietly. “And I shall never forget you for as long as I live. As you know, that means forever. I guess that makes you immortal in a way, immortalized in my memory. It’s not much, but I hope you’ll accept it, old friend.”

As he departed with Teddy, Henry heard the wind whistle through the trees despite there being no breeze a moment ago.

 _“Yes, I will,”_ he heard James’s voice echo in his ears.

Henry smiled.

~ * ~


End file.
